Callie had thought that tonight would be different.
She had expected Mariana and Rivington’s betrothal ball to be perfect. And it was—every inch of the room had been polished until it shone, from the floors and windows, to the enormous crystal chandeliers and wall sconces that held thousands of twinkling candles, to the marble columns that lined one length of the room, supporting the most impressive feature of the Allendale House ballroom—an upper viewing corridor that allowed guests in need of a respite to find one without ever leaving the ballroom.
She’d expected that Mariana would sparkle, and she did—a glittering gem on Rivington’s arm, swirling through the dozens of other couples in a rousing country dance. And the other guests seemed to agree with Callie; they were thrilled to be there, at the first major event of the season, to fête Mariana and her duke. The ton was at its best, dressed in the height of fashion, eager to see and be seen by those whom they had missed while away from London for the winter months.
Callie had imagined that this ball would be special for both Allendale sisters, however.
And yet, here she sat, in Spinster Seating. As usual.
She should be used to it, of course—used to being ignored and sloughed off with the rest of the women who were on the shelf. Truthfully, in the early years, she’d preferred it here. The women had accepted her into their fold, graciously making room for her on whatever furniture happened to be arranged for their kind. Callie had found it much more enjoyable to watch the season unfold while trading gossip with the older women than to stand awkwardly on the other side of the room waiting patiently to be asked to dance by an eligible young gentleman.
After two seasons of fortune hunters and aging widowers, Callie had welcomed the companionship of the spinsters.
And then, she’d turned into one of them.
She wasn’t even really sure when or how it had happened, but it had. And now, she had very little choice in the matter.
But tonight was Mariana’s betrothal ball. Tonight was Calpurnia’s first ball since she had begun crossing items off her list. And tonight she had honestly thought that things might be different. After all, as the bride’s obvious choice for maid of honor, did she not earn special recognition at an event wholly designed to celebrate the pending nuptials?
Watching the dancers, she let out a little sigh. Evidently not.
“Oh, Calpurnia.” Miss Genevieve Hetherington, a middle-aged spinster with kind eyes and a complete lack of sensitivity, patted Callie’s knee gently with one lace-gloved hand. “You must move beyond that, my dear. Some of us are not made for dancing.”
“Indeed not.” The words were wrung from Callie, who took the opportunity to stand and excuse herself. Certainly that would be a more preferable course of action than strangling one of the ton’s most beloved spinsters.
Keeping her head down to limit the number of people she might be required to acknowledge, Callie made her way to the refreshment room.
She was waylaid by Baron Oxford mere feet from her destination. “My lady!”
Callie pasted a too-bright smile on her face and turned toward the baron, who flashed her the toothiest grin she had ever seen. Unable to keep herself from doing so, she took a small step back from the beaming man. “Baron Oxford. What a surprise.”
“Yes, I rather suppose it is.” His smile did not waver.
She paused, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she said, “I am happy to see that you could join us tonight.”
“Not so happy as I am to have been able to join you, my lady.”
The emphasis on the honorific sent a wave of confusion through Callie. Did the baron mean for his words to sound so suggestive? Surely not, considering that Callie couldn’t recall the last time she’d spoken with the incurable dandy. She cleared her throat delicately. “Well. Thank you.”
“You look quite lovely tonight.” Oxford leaned in, and his smile broadened. Was it possible that the man had more than the usual number of teeth?
“Oh.” Belatedly, Callie remembered to dip her head and appear flattered instead of thoroughly bewildered. “Thank you, my lord.”
Oxford looked entirely proud of himself. “Perhaps you would do me the honor of a dance?” When she did not immediately respond, he lifted her hand to his lips and lowered his voice, adding, “I’ve been meaning to ask you all evening.”
The unexpected interaction set Callie back on her heels. Is he soused?
As she considered the eager invitation, Callie heard the orchestra tuning to the first tentative notes of a waltz and was immediately resistant to the idea of dancing with Oxford. The waltz had not come to England until after Callie had been labeled a spinster, and she had never had a chance to dance it—at least, not with anyone other than Benedick in the privacy of their home. She certainly did not want her first waltz in public to be with Oxford, grinning like a fool. With a quick look into the refreshment room, she considered her best avenue for escape.
“Oh. Well. I—” she hedged.
“Calpurnia! There you are!” Miss Heloise Parkthwaite, in her fifties and quite nearsighted, came from nowhere to clutch Callie’s arm. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you! Do be a dear and escort me to have my hem repaired, would you?”
A wave of relief coursed through Callie; she was saved. “Of course, Heloise, dear,” she said. Tugging her hand from Oxford’s grasp, she offered a regretful smile in his direction. “Perhaps another time, my lord?”
“Indeed! I shan’t allow you to escape me next time!” Oxford punctuated his sentence with a booming laugh, and she responded with a tiny, stilted chuckle before turning away to lead Heloise in the direction of the ladies’ salon.
Callie took Heloise’s arm, and the older woman began chattering about the daring bodices that were clearly in fashion that year. Between nodding and murmuring in a manner she hoped appeared both intrigued and entertained, Callie allowed her mind to wander—turning from the odd interaction with Oxford to thoughts of her list.
She promptly decided that if she was to suffer through an entire evening of bizarre conversation and Spinster Seating, she well deserved another attempt at adventure. In fact, she was sorely tempted to do drop Heloise safely in the ladies’ salon and take the opportunity to escape immediately to her list.
If, of course, they ever arrived at the ladies’ salon. The older woman had stopped midstride and was squinting into the crowd. “Is that Ralston I see there? How odd!”
Callie’s heart skipped a beat at the words, and she turned to follow the direction of Heloise’s attention but, because of her lack of height, could see nothing through the mass of people surrounding them. Reminding herself of Heloise’s terrible eyesight, Callie shook her head, returning herself to the task of navigating through the crowds. It couldn’t be Ralston.
Heloise evidently agreed. “No, it cannot be Ralston. He rarely attends balls. It must be St. John.”
Callie let out a breath that she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Of course. It could be Lord Nicholas. Please, let it be Lord Nicholas.
“How curious that he be approaching us, though.”
Unable to keep herself from doing so, Callie snapped her head back to the crowd just in time to see the tall, magnificent gentleman moving gracefully toward them, determination in his blue eyes.
It wasn’t Lord Nicholas.
Even if the lack of scar had not revealed his identity, Callie would have known. Nicholas’s shoulders weren’t quite as broad, his jaw wasn’t quite as strong, his eyes weren’t quite as all-consuming as his brother’s. St. John had never made her breath catch, had never set her pulse racing, had never made her think absolutely unthinkable thoughts.
No, the man approaching them was most definitely not Lord Nicholas St. John.
But how she wished he were.
Callie glanced quickly from side to side, attempting to judge the quickest and least crowded escape route, by which she could avoid a meeting with Ralston. Bodies seemed to close in upon them from all sides—with the exception of the direction from which he approached. She met his knowing gaze as he raised one dark, perfectly arched brow.
She was trapped. Trapped alongside the sputtering Heloise, who, one might believe, hadn’t been approached by a handsome gentleman in years.
Not that it was a common occurrence for Callie.
“Lord Nicholas!” Heloise cried, a touch too loudly. “How lovely to see you!”
“Heloise, dear,” Callie spoke quietly to her companion. “’Tis Ralston.”
Heloise squinted, her gaze falling obviously to Ralston’s cheek, searching for the telltale difference between the brothers. “Oh! Of course! My apologies, Lord Ralston.” She dropped a quick curtsy.
“No apologies necessary, Miss Parkthwaite.” He bowed low over Heloise’s gloved hand, before adding, “I assure you, I consider it a great compliment. My brother is the better-looking of the pair.”
“Oh, no, my lord,” Heloise tittered, blushing and waving her fan like a drunken hummingbird. “Certainly not!”
Ralston offered the older woman a wink before saying, “Well, far be it from me to disagree with a lady.”
The words sent Heloise into a fit of giggles as Ralston turned to Callie, who offered her hand to Ralston. Ralston bowed low, sending a shiver of heat up her arm. “Lady Calpurnia, I had hoped to secure your next available dance.”
Heloise gasped in surprise as Callie blurted out, “I beg your pardon?”
“The next dance.” Ralston repeated, looking from one woman to the other as if they were both slightly touched. “I will admit I do not attend as many balls as I likely should these days, but people do still dance at them, do they not?”
“Oh! Yes, indeed, my lord,” Heloise interjected helpfully.
“In that case,” Ralston’s eyes sparkled with checked humor, “may I have your dance card, Lady Calpurnia?”
“I do not have a dance card.” She so rarely danced, she did not need one.
There was a beat as he took in her words.
“Excellent. That makes it much easier to claim a dance, then, doesn’t it?” Ralston turned back to Heloise. “Do you mind if I thieve your companion, Miss Heloise?”
Dumbfounded, Heloise could do little more than shake her head, and sputter, “Not at all!”
Callie stood still, feet rooted to the floor, refusing to be led onto the dance floor. She couldn’t waltz with Ralston. He couldn’t be her first waltz. It would most definitely ruin her for all others.
Men like Ralston are not for women like you, Callie.
No. Indeed they were not. Especially not when they were threatening to waltz with her. In the interest of self-preservation, Callie shook her head firmly. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly, my lord. You see, I’ve promised Heloise I would accompany her to—”
“Nonsense!” Heloise said, her tone high-pitched and breathless. “I shall be quite fine! You must waltz, Lady Calpurnia.” At the last, the older woman beamed up at Ralston, nodding excitedly.
And the decision was made.
Ralston swept her into the center of the room for her first waltz.
As he guided her across the floor, Callie saw her mother at the opposite end of the room, standing with a beaming Mariana, watching them. The dowager countess looked utterly shocked. Callie gave her a little nod of acknowledgment, trying her best to appear as though handsome marquesses approached her at every ball she attended.
Desperate to lighten the situation—for her own good sense—Callie said dryly, “You’ve certainly given everyone something to talk about tonight, my lord.”
“I suppose you mean my attendance. Well, I rather thought that with Juliana on her way out, I had better start ingratiating myself to the ton.” After a long pause, he added, “Why do you not dance?”
Callie considered his question for a moment before replying. “I did, for several years. And then…I stopped.”
Unsatisfied with her answer, he pressed on. “Why?”
She gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “The partners were not altogether ideal. Those who weren’t fortune hunters were elderly or boring or…simply unpleasant. It became easier to avoid the invitations altogether than to suffer their company.”
“I hope you do not consider me so distasteful.”
She allowed herself to meet his amused gaze. No. Ralston was not distasteful. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
“No, my lord,” she said, the softness in her tone betraying her thoughts before she added, “And neither does Miss Heloise, it appears. She was quite charmed by you.”
“One must use one’s talents to one’s advantage, Lady Calpurnia.”
“Something I am certain you do quite well.”
His voice deepened. “I assure you, I do it very well.”
Refusing to allow herself to be flustered, she said, “Your reputation precedes you, my lord.” Callie failed to notice the double meaning in her words until they were out of her mouth.
He raised one brow. “Indeed?”
Callie’s cheeks flamed as she redirected her gaze to his elaborate cravat, wishing that she were as erudite and alluring as the women with whom he was accustomed to dancing. They, of course, would know exactly how to play his flirtatious game.
“Come now, Lady Calpurnia,” he teased quietly, “to which of the nefarious deeds of my past do you refer?”
She met his eyes again, noting the challenge there. “Oh, any number of them, my lord,” she said lightly, enjoying herself. “Is it true you once leapt from a countess’s balcony quite unfortunately into a holly bush below?”
Ralston’s eyes widened slightly at her quiet question before amusement flashed. “A gentleman would neither confirm nor deny such an occurrence.”
Callie laughed. “On the contrary, my lord. A gentleman would most certainly deny such an occurrence.”
He smiled, a rakish grin, and Callie was thankful for the companionable silence that fell between them, for she was not certain she could find words in the face of his rare smile. She lost herself in the dance, in the sound of the music, in the sway of their bodies. If this was to be her first and only waltz, she wanted to remember every moment. She closed her eyes, allowing Ralston to guide her around the room, and Callie became keenly aware of his gloved hand barely touching her waist, the brush of his long, muscled leg against her own as they swirled across the floor. After several moments, she became disoriented and opened her eyes, uncertain whether the source of her light-headedness was the movement or the man. Meeting Ralston’s blue eyes, she accepted the truth.
It was, of course, the man.
“I was hoping we could talk of Juliana.”
Callie swallowed her disappointment. Despite her visiting with Juliana three times that week, she had not seen Ralston during her visits—a fact that was likely for the best, considering she turned into something of a cabbagehead when he was nearby.
Unaware of her thoughts, he pressed on. “I wonder when you think my sister will be ready to take to the ballrooms of London?”
“I would think no longer than another week. Juliana is a wonderful pupil, my lord. Very eager to please both you and your brother.”
He nodded, satisfied with her answer. “I should like for you to take her shopping. She will need new gowns.”
Callie’s surprise was obvious. “I’m not certain I’m the appropriate companion for dress shopping, my lord.”
“You seem quite appropriate to me.”
She tried another tack. “You should have someone who is at the height of fashion accompany her.”
“I want you.” The words were frank and imperious.
Callie knew she would not win. After a pause, she nodded her agreement. “I shall have to have a look at her current wardrobe, to assess her needs.”
“No. She needs everything. I want her outfitted in entirety. The best and most current of fashions.” His tone did not encourage discussion. “I will not have her out of place.”
“With her only here for two months—”
“You cannot honestly believe that I would allow her return to Italy.”
“I—” Callie noted the firm resolve in his tone. “No, I suppose not. But, my lord,” she said delicately, uncertain of how to point out the expense of such an extravagant request.
“Money is of no import. She is to have the best.”
“Very well.” She acquiesced quietly, deciding that she’d much rather dance than argue the point.
He allowed her a few moments of silent movement before saying, “I would also like to discuss the necessary requirements to secure entrance to Almack’s for her.”
Callie’s eyes widened at his words. She replied, choosing her response carefully. “Almack’s may not be the best place to enter Juliana into society, my lord.”
“Whyever not? Acceptance there makes for a much easier entrée into the rest of the ton, does it not?”
“Certainly,” Callie agreed. “However, the Lady Patronesses do not give vouchers freely. There are considerable hoops through which one must jump.”
Ralston’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you do not believe that Juliana will receive a voucher?”
Callie paused, thinking before she said, “I believe the ladies of Almack’s will find your sister impeccably mannered—”
“Ah, but impeccable manners are not enough, are they, Lady Calpurnia?”
She met his eyes directly. “No, my lord.”
“Is it me? Or my mother?”
“This is really not the place to discuss—”
“Nonsense. This is society. Aren’t all matters of import discussed in ballrooms?” His tone was laced with heavy sarcasm. If she were not so keenly aware of his frustration with the situation, she would have been offended by his flippancy.
He looked away from her, over her head, his eyes unseeing. She paused, judging his response before speaking carefully. “If she were titled…or if she weren’t living at Ralston House…” She changed tack. “It might be easier to garner acceptance for Juliana if we avoid Almack’s altogether.”
He fell silent, but she could sense the change in him. The arms that held her were stiff with corded tension. After several moments, he met her gaze. “I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Neither do I.” And she didn’t.
He paused, as if he could read her thoughts. “Will this work?”
“I shall do my best.” The truth.
The corner of his mouth raised quickly—if she hadn’t been so focused on him, she might have missed it. “So certain of yourself.”
“One does not spend one’s life on the edge of ballrooms and not learn exactly what it takes to be belle of the ball, my lord.”
“If anyone can help Juliana navigate these shark-infested waters, I think it quite possibly could be you, Lady Calpurnia.” The words, laced with respect, caused a warmth to spread through Callie, which she tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore.
As the waltz came to an end and her skirts swirled back into place, she risked asking, “May I suggest you escort me to my mother?”
He immediately recognized the logic behind her words. “You think a single conversation with your mother will convince them that I am reformed?”
“It cannot hurt.” She smiled up at him as they promenaded around the edge of the ballroom. “You forget one of the most important tenets of London society.”
“Which is?”
“Wealthy, unmarried marquesses are always welcome back into the light.”
He paused, letting one finger stroke slowly across her knuckles as he spoke softly in her ear. “And if I am not sure I want to exit the darkness?”
A shiver pulsed down her spine at the words, more breath than sound. She cleared her throat delicately. “I am afraid it is too late.”
“Lord Ralston!” Her mother’s voice came, high-pitched and excited, as they approached her and Mariana, who appeared to have been watching the entire waltz, waiting for this particular moment. “How fortunate we are to have you join us this evening.”
Ralston offered a low bow. “It is I who was fortunate to have received an invitation, my lady. Lady Mariana, you are radiant. May I offer my best wishes on your coming marriage?”
Mariana smiled warmly at Ralston’s flattery, offering him a hand. “Thank you, my lord. And, may I say that I am quite eager to meet your sister? Callie has said wonderful things about her.”
“Lady Calpurnia has been a good friend to Juliana in the week since her arrival.” He looked to Callie, and added, “I am of the opinion that there is no one better to ensure my sister’s success.”
“You are absolutely correct, of course, my lord,” said Lady Allendale. “Callie’s reputation is impeccable. And, considering her age and situation, hers is the ideal tutelage for Miss Juliana.”
Callie winced inwardly at her mother’s words, which—whether intentionally or not—drew attention to her status as untouchable spinster. The real meaning of Lady Allendale’s statement couldn’t have been more obvious if she had announced that Callie had taken vows as a nun.
Lady Allendale plunged onward. “May I ask, my lord, how you and Callie came to such an agreement regarding your sister’s introduction into society?”
Callie’s gaze flew to Ralston, her heart in her throat. How was he going to avoid the truth? He replied calmly, “I confess, Lady Allendale, the agreement was entirely my idea. I was extraordinarily lucky that Lady Calpurnia happened to be in the right place at the right time, as they say. I do not know how I will repay her for such a generous offer.” Callie’s eyes widened at his reply; did she detect a teasing tone in his words? She turned her attention back to her mother, who appeared entirely pacified with the marquess’s answer, as though it were perfectly ordinary for rakes to request the company of her unmarried daughter for purposes not altogether clear.
She had to end this embarrassment. Immediately. Before her mother did something truly mortifying. As if it weren’t enough that she was dressed in a shimmering aubergine silk adorned with peacock feathers. Many peacock feathers.
“Mother, Lord Ralston has agreed to escort me to the refreshment room,” she said, avoiding Ralston’s gaze as she attempted to lie as prettily as he seemed to do. “May we fetch something for you?”
“Oh, no, thank you.” The dowager countess waved her fan in the air dismissively before placing a hand on Ralston’s arm and meeting his gaze directly. “Lord Ralston, I look forward to meeting this sister of yours very soon. Perhaps she will come to luncheon?” It was not a question.
Ralston tipped his head graciously, accepting the countess’s offer of support, saying, “I am certain Juliana would enjoy that, Lady Allendale.”
Callie’s mother nodded firmly. “Excellent.”
With that, Lady Allendale was off, poor Mariana in tow, to greet more guests. Ralston offered Callie an arm.
“I should very much like to escort you to the refreshment room, Lady Calpurnia,” he said wryly.
She took the arm. “I apologize for the untruth.”
“No need.” They walked in silence for several moments before he added, “Thank you.” He recognized how important the interaction with her family and the invitation from her mother would be in securing Juliana’s acceptance into society.
She did not immediately respond, her thoughts instead focused on the evening’s surprising turn of events. Keenly aware of the heat of Ralston’s arm under her hand, of the eyes of London’s best and brightest following their path around the ballroom, Callie couldn’t stop herself from wondering just how different this particular evening could become.
“Do not thank me too quickly, my lord,” Callie began tentatively. “After all, as you so tactfully stated, I have not yet made my request for payment.”
Ralston glanced down at her. “So I’ve noticed. I don’t suppose you’ll out with it now, so we can get it over with?”
“I’m afraid not. I do have a rather strange question, however, if you wouldn’t mind humoring me.”
“Not at all. I would be happy to oblige.”
She swallowed, shoring up her courage, and attempting to sound as casual as possible, asked, “Are you able to recommend a good tavern in town?”
As questions went, it was neither the most tactful nor the most delicate, but Callie was too eager for his response to attempt anything other than a direct approach.
Ralston was to be credited for not betraying the surprise he must have felt at the query. In fact, with the exception of a quick glance in her direction, he continued navigating the couples blocking their path deftly, without pause.
“I beg your pardon? A tavern?”
“Yes. A public house.” She nodded, offering him a smile, hoping he wouldn’t press her.
“What for?”
She really should have expected his curiosity. Callie grasped for an explanation. “You see…my lord,” she paused, thinking. “My brother…Benedick?” She waited for Ralston’s nod of recognition before continuing. “Well…Benedick is seeking a new haunt…and I thought you might have an answer to his conundrum.”
“I’m sure I could recommend somewhere. I shall discuss it with him.”
“No!”
One eyebrow rose at her vehement response. “No?”
She cleared her throat quickly. “No, my lord.” She paused, seeking inspiration. “You see…my brother…he would not appreciate my discussing taverns with you.”
“As well he shouldn’t.”
“Quite.” She attempted to appear properly chagrined. “So, you see, it might be better for you to name an appropriate location…for a gentleman, of course…and I will make the recommendation quietly. When the appropriate time presents itself.”
She had been so engrossed in weaving her tale that Callie hadn’t noticed that they had stopped their passage. Ralston had guided her into one of the alcoves on the far edge of the ballroom, out of the way of the throngs of guests.
Turning to face her, he said, “You are a terrible liar.”
Callie’s eyes widened. She did not have to feign shock. “My lord?”
“Your fibs. Even if the words had rung true—which they didn’t—you hide your thoughts poorly.”
She opened her mouth to respond, could think of nothing to say, and closed it again.
“As I thought. I don’t know why or for whom you would be seeking a public house, it seems a rather odd request, especially coming from a lady—” She opened her mouth again; he held up a hand to stop her from speaking. “However, I am feeling rather magnanimous this evening…and I am inclined to indulge you.”
She couldn’t help the smile that flashed. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Don’t thank me too quickly.”
Callie’s eyes narrowed as she recognized the words that she had spoken to him just moments ago. “What do you want?”
She expected a number of things from him at that moment—another request relating to Juliana’s lessons, an entrée to Almack’s, a dinner invitation from her mother, from Rivington’s mother, even. She was prepared for those things. At this moment, they seemed an even trade for the name of a tavern where she could continue her adventures.
She was not expecting him to smile. And so, when he did—a wicked, wolfish grin that shook her to her toes—she was completely unprepared. A burst of heat spread through her, and her heart began to pound. She couldn’t stop staring at his white teeth, his wide, soft lips, the single dimple that appeared in one cheek.
He was more handsome than he had ever been.
Ralston took advantage of her unguarded state, closing in on her until her back was pressed against the wall. She noticed belatedly that the small alcove was remarkably quiet, considering the mass of humanity that was just out of sight. He had selected a space that was almost entirely blocked by a massive column and a cluster of large ferns, affording them a measure of privacy.
He did not seem to care that the entire ton was mere inches away.
She grew nervous.
He reached out and ran a finger down the length of her arm, leaving a trail of fire where he touched her. Taking her gloved hand in his, he turned it over, baring her wrist to his gaze. He brushed his thumb over the delicate skin there, sending her pulse racing. Callie’s entire world had been reduced to this single moment, this single caress. She could not tear her eyes from the point where they touched. The warmth of his hand, the even stroke of his thumb, consumed her as it threatened her sanity.
She did not know how long he stood caressing her before he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed his mouth to the bare skin of her wrist. Her eyes closed against the flood of sensation that came with the touch—the softness of his lips, parted just enough to breathe a hot, moist kiss upon her before he scraped his teeth against the sensitive spot. She heard her own gasp and opened her eyes just in time to feel his tongue soothing the skin. He boldly met her gaze as he wreaked havoc on her senses, and she couldn’t help but watch him, knowing that he knew exactly what he was doing to her.
With one final kiss, Ralston let go of her hand, holding her gaze as he leaned toward her. When he spoke, his words were more air than sound as they brushed softly over the skin of her temple. “The Dog and Dove.”
At first, she was confused. While she hadn’t been certain of precisely what he would say, she had not been expecting that. And then, from deep within the haze of sensuality that he had created around them, understanding dawned. Her eyes widened. Before she could say anything, he was gone, leaving her to regain her sanity in private.
When she exited the alcove, flushed with anticipation, she was not surprised to discover that the marquess had taken his leave entirely.
He had, however, given her the name of a tavern.